


A Day With Jay + What Happens When Dick Drinks Whiskey

by RichardGraysonPercyJackson



Series: The Acrobat and The Mercenary [70]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU
Genre: Brothers, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Protective Jason Todd, Protective Slade Wilson, Sick Dick Grayson, Vomiting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-25
Updated: 2020-05-27
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:02:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,199
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24375478
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RichardGraysonPercyJackson/pseuds/RichardGraysonPercyJackson
Summary: Part 1: A Day With Jay -"I’m glad you’re finally taking care of yourself.”“You’re one to talk. Mr. ‘I work until I pass out or my husband grounds me’.”“Fair enough. Also, Slade only grounded me once.”.........................Part 2: What Happens When Dick Drinks Whiskey -"This is abuse.""Oh? Well why don't you go across the hall and tell Roger, I'm sure he'd love to know.""You're the worst."
Relationships: Dick Grayson/Slade Wilson
Series: The Acrobat and The Mercenary [70]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1323779
Comments: 15
Kudos: 292





	1. A Day With Jay

**Author's Note:**

> This is a two part work! Two chapter work! oooh! Yay! Chapter two takes place before chapter one but comes after

“You don’t look happy,” Jason commented when Dick slid into the booth across from him. “Bad night last night?”

“No,” Dick replied, smiling at the waitress and thanking her for the glass of water she’d brought him. He and Jason ordered quickly - both already knowing what they wanted for breakfast - before they settled and Dick asked,

“How was your night?”

“Wasn’t too bad, could have been worse,” Jason remarked. 

“Did you take off patrol?”

“Yeah, my ankle was being iffy yesterday anyway.”

“Good.” Dick smiled. “I’m glad you’re finally taking care of yourself.”

Jason rolled his eyes. “You’re one to talk. Mr. ‘I work until I pass out or my husband grounds me’.”

Dick shrugged. “Fair enough.” then he scowled. “Also, Slade only grounded me once.”

Jason shook his head fondly, chuckling softly. They talked a bit more about regular, daily things before Jason changed the subject.

“Hey, you took off from patrol last night too, right?” he asked as he picked up his glass of water. “What’d you guys do?” he pressed as he took a sip. “Anything interesting?”

Dick scowled. “We sat on the living room floor while Slade made me drink whiskey until I stopped acting like I was dying when it burned my throat.”

Jason choked on his water. “Oh my god.” he fought the urge to laugh. “How did that end?”

Dick leveled him an unhappy look. “I threw up on the kitchen floor. Twice.”

“Whiskey’s not for you then.”

“Nope,” Dick replied.

“How did Slade react to you throwing up?”

“He called me a pussy then made me go sit in the bathtub to settle my stomach.”

Jason raised an eyebrow. “And you’re sure you love him?”

“Yes.”

The table was silent for a moment before Jason asked, “You threw up again in the tub, didn’t you?”

“Twice.”

“You  _ sure _ you don’t want to stay home in bed instead of having breakfast?”

“I’m sure,” Dick replied, taking a confident sip of his water. “Besides, we don’t do enough together anymore.”

“True, I suppose,” Jason said with a shrug. “Since you’re married and I’ve got my mob to run.”

The younger heaved a sigh, covering his face with his hand when Dick gave him that stupid, kicked puppy look.

“Jay-”

“ _ Don’t _ ,” Jason said firmly, pointing a finger in Dick’s face. “You are not allowed to judge me for the mob when you’re married to a mercenary. Alright?”

Dick opened his mouth to reply before cutting himself off and shaking his head, surprising Jason with a soft laugh.

“You know what, you’re right,” he agreed. “Pretty hypocritical of me, isn’t it?”

“Damn straight.” they grinned at each other before Jason softened and asked, “Are you okay though? I mean from throwing up four times last night. I thought you could handle your alcohol better.”

“Slade and I don’t think it was actually the alcohol that made me sick,” Dick admitted, pausing when the waitress arrived with their food and waiting until she was gone to continue. “I’d gotten drugged on patrol the night before-”

“Shit.”

“But it was only something that caused mild nausea. I’d sort of just been tired and achy all day but we think the whiskey might have just triggered whatever was left in my system.”

“Still, Slade could have at least respected that you weren’t feeling well and not made you drink until you puked,” Jason argued.

Dick smiled. “It’s really sweet of you to worry about me, Jay,” he said. “But trust me. If I had told Slade I didn’t feel well and wanted to stop, he would have. I did, actually. That’s why we both went into the kitchen. I was helping him put stuff away when I started throwing up.”

“Just out of the blue?” Jason asked. “You didn’t feel sick first or anything?”

“Nope,” Dick replied. “I had actually just gotten a drink of water to wash the taste out.”

“Probably too much for your stomach on top of any lingering effects of the drugs.”

“Yeah.”

“Slade’s sweet on you.”

Dick blinked, surprised, before smiling. “He is.”

“I’m glad,” Jason said. “He loves you, he respects you, he listens to you. He gives you what you need when you need it, and…” Jason cursed under his breath and Dick frowned.

“Jay?”

“He’s better family to you then any of us have ever been,” Jason declared. “And don’t argue that, Dick. It’s facts. Deathstroke The Terminator treats you with the respect you deserve. He treats you right. Better than Bruce ever did.”

“When we first met, he had been sent to kill me,” Dick pointed out.

Jason shrugged, shoving a bite of his pancake into his mouth before pointing at Dick with his fork and declaring,

“But he didn’t.”

“He drugged me.”

“But did he kill you?” 

Dick rolled his eyes. “Jason-”

“ _ And _ he killed Mirage for you, so that should earn him some points.” Dick froze and Jason let out an eloquent, “Fuck.”

“Slade killed Mirage?”

“Um-”

“When,” Dick demanded. It wasn’t a question, it was an order, and in that moment Jason swore he could see both Batman and Deathstroke staring down at him.

“A while back.”

“A while back,” Dick repeated. “ _ When _ .”

Jason shifted, dodging Dick’s gaze to stall for time before finally sighing and accepting that he couldn’t get out of this. Defeated, his shoulders dropped and he replied,

“A month before he proposed.”

“Fuck.” Dick felt sick. “That was seven years ago, Jason.”

“He was doing it for you, Dick.”

“I don’t need people fighting my battles. It’s fine.”

“She hurt you,” Jason declared, fury burning in his eyes. “And Slade was pissed. As he should be. As I was.”

“You  _ told _ him!?” Dick shouted, drawing attention from the other patrons.

“Yeah, Dick, I did,” Jason declared firmly. “I told him because you’re my brother and because he loves you and because you sure as  _ fuck _ weren’t going to do it!”

Dick seethed, eyes burning before he closed them and took a long, slow breath, forcing his hands to relax and lay flat against the table.

“Sorry,” he whispered. “I shouldn’t have gotten so angry.”

“And I shouldn’t have told him,” Jason returned. “I was just worried about you and...and I wanted to test him.”

Dick opened his eyes and frowned. “Test him?”

“I needed to make sure he really did care about you,” Jason replied.

“Oh, Jay…” Dick sighed. “I shouldn’t have gotten angry. I guess...now that I think about, he did tell me you told him about Mirage.”

“But he never said he killed her,” Jason guessed.

“No,” Dick agreed. “I guess I should have figured as much though. Slade gets...” he chuckled. “Very defensive of what he considers his.”

“As he should,” Jason said with a firm nod. “There are a lot of people who think you’re too gentle. There are a lot of people who want to hurt you.” he grinned. “It’s good that you have a shadow that’s going to make sure they don’t.”

Dick smiled. “Thanks, Jay.”


	2. What Happens When Dick Drinks Whiskey

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took me so long to post this : (
> 
> I just forgot and got super busy

“What’s this?” Dick asked, confused, when he stepped into the apartment to find the coffee table pushed to the side, two glasses and a bottle of whiskey placed on top.

“Oh good, you’re home, come sit down,” Slade said as he stepped out of the kitchen and took a seat on the floor between the coffee table and the couch. Still frowning, still confused, Dick put his phone, keys, and wallet on the table next to the door and walked over to sit cross legged on the floor across from Slade.

“I repeat,” he said as Slade filled both the glasses and handed one to Dick. “What’s this? I don’t even like whiskey.”

“I know.” Slade heaved a mostly theatrical sigh. “You act as though you’re dying every time you take a sip.”

“It burns.”

“Get over it.”

The aggression in Slade’s tone was both surprising and also arousing and Dick shifted a bit before asking,

“So what are we doing?”

“We’re going to sit here, on the floor, until you can drink one glass of whiskey without freaking out.”

Dick blinked. “I’m going to get drunk.”

“Well, I can’t so your consent will stay solid,” Slade declared, lifting up his glass and declaring, “Drink.” before swallowing it back.

Dick looked down at his own before looking back at Slade and blurting, “This is abuse.”

“Oh?” Slade drawled. “Well, why don’t you go across the hall and tell Roger, I’m sure he’d love to know.”

Dick scowled. “You’re the worst.”

“Uh huh,” Slade agreed, already refilling his glass as he ordered, “Just drink it.”

“Or what?”

Slade’s gaze was dark. “Are you sure you want to find out?”

…………………………....

“You’re being a pussy,” Slade said calmly when Dick put his glass on the coffee table before laying down and curling up.

“I’m not, I don’t feel good,” he muttered. “I want to stop.”

The living room was silent for a moment and when Dick opened his eyes, Slade was standing over him with one hand out.

“Alright,” he agreed, gently helping the acrobat up. “Are you okay?”

“Fine, my stomach just hurts a little,” Dick muttered. “I’ll help you carry the glasses to the kitchen.”

“You’ll feel better if you lay down.”

Dick shook his head. “It’s not that bad,” he objected. “Just...rolling. Kinda.”

“Are you telling me right away?” Slade asked as they took the whiskey and glasses back to the kitchen and Dick grabbed a clean one to get a sip of water and wash the taste out. “Or have you been letting yourself suffer quietly for several minutes?”

“Only, like, two,” Dick muttered as he took a sip of water and Slade turned to place the glasses in the dishwasher, only to instantly turn at the sound of Dick gagging, the acrobat doubled over and a pool of vomit at his feet.

“Shit, s-sorry,” Dick gasped, gagging and curling over his stomach, barely able to turn to the sink in time to start throwing up again. He whimpered.

“You’re alright,” Slade soothed gently, walking over to rub a hand over Dick’s back. “You’re fine.”

“I wanna lay down now,” Dick mumbled, one hand still pressed to his stomach.

“Go take a bath,” Slade suggested. “It might help to settle your stomach. I’ll be back shortly.”

“Okay.”

………………………………..

Slade walked into the bathroom just as Dick pulled half his body over the side of the tub to vomit onto the floor.

“Sorry, sorry,” Dick mumbled, entire body shaking, skin coated with bath water and sweat as he leaned back, brushing tears from his eyes. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be, it’s alright.”

“I didn’t mean to-”

“It’s okay, Dick,” Slade promised, pausing in cleaning up the mess to reach out and brush Dick’s hair off his face. “You’re okay.” he smiled then and added, “Whiskey’s just not for you.”

Dick laughed weakly before muttering, “I don’t think it was the whiskey.”

Understanding dawned in Slade’s mind. “You did get drugged last night, with some sort of nausea inducer,” he murmured as he turned to finish cleaning up. “The whiskey might have just triggered whatever was left.”

Dick only hummed in weak agreement, shifting in the bath to fold his arms on the side of the tub and pillow his head atop them.

“My stomach hurts,” he mumbled a few moments later, once Slade had taken a seat on the floor next to him and begun carding his fingers through the acrobat’s damp locks.

“Do you think you’re going to throw up again?”

Dick shrugged. “Didn’t think I was going to throw up before, so how am I supposed to know now?” he complained.

Slade hummed. “Just let me know.”

……………………..

Dick didn’t throw up again until Slade was helping him out of the bath.

“I’m done, I wanna be done,” the acrobat whimpered, shaking as Slade helped dry him and helped him brush his teeth before guiding him into their bed, gently brushing away Dick’s tears.

“I’ll be right back, just try to relax,” Slade soothed before he vanished back to the bathroom. Dick nodded and curled in on himself, closing his eyes and burying his face in Slade’s pillow while he waited.

He must have fallen asleep briefly because when he opened his eyes next, Slade was laying in bed next to him, one hand on the acrobat’s back, gently tubbing small circles while he read from a book in his other hand.

“Whiskey is just as bad coming back up as it is going down,” Dick mumbled sleepily, shifting to bury his face in Slade’s thigh. “I don’t like it.”

“Then don’t drink it again.”

“I won’t.”

“Well, good,” Slade looked down at him and gave a gentle but subtly worried smile. “How’s your stomach.”

“Sore, tired, empty,” Dick listed off. “Sorry I threw up.”

“You couldn’t help it,” Slade soothed. “I’m sorry I forced it.”

“It’s okay, I could have just said no from the start,” Dick said with a weak shrug. “Can we stop talking now?”

Slade chuckled as he turned back to his book. “Those are words I never thought  _ you _ of all people would say.”

“You’re the worst.”

“I love you too, little bird.”

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know your thoughts and check back tomorrow or later today (IDK) for chapter 2!


End file.
